


The Enterprise Psychiatric Facility

by photonromance



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Gen, M/M, Psychiatric Facility AU, Recovery, Savant - Freeform, Sociopath, Trigger Warnings, asylum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk struggles with Bipolar Disorder and his feelings of abandonment. The facility employees have decided Spock simply has no emotions. Jim knows he's hard to deal with during an Episode but Spock is so patient and kind. In return, Jim is the only sanctuary Spock has to express himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Enterprise Psychiatric Facility

**Author's Note:**

> A fairly short pieces I scribbled during my own depressive Episode. I tried to stick to my own experience in the hope it would feel more genuine. Any comments are absolutely welcome.

Jim Kirk has been at the The Enterprise Psychiatric Facility for almost a year now.

He's bipolar. A manic depressive with episodes his single mother has never been able to understand, much less handle. She had a hard time after his father's death and they never really bonded in his childhood and now she just thinks he's crazy.

He's not though.

Jim tells himself so every morning in the mirror.

It's not been all bad at the facility. He's got a few friends. There's a girl named Nyota in the women's ward that sings like an angel. She only speaks English sometimes, but her songs are beautiful reguardless. During rec time, she sways around the room and sings to everyone and no one. She's lovely.

And little Pavel Chekhov. He's a Savant. Brilliant at mathematics but not so good at everything else. He's a sweet kid, a little shy but always nice.

And Spock. Oh Spock. He's Jim's best friend at the facility. Or out off it.

The doctors and nurses all whisper 'sociopath' when they think he's far enough away but Jim knows better. Spock's expression never changes, he never betrays what he's thinking. They think he's broken. Something in his brain just doesn't let him feel the way normal people do. They're wrong.

Spock feels very deeply, he aches and smiles when they're together alone. Something happened to him when he was young, something he hasn't yet told even Jim, that changed him.

He's not crazy either and Jim tells him so every chance he gets. Playing chess or reading in Jim's room (with the door open of course, the nurses insist), Jim tells him softly, touching his palm. "We're not crazy." He whispers, lacing their fingers together, "We're a bit diffrent, but that's not bad." 

Sometimes Spock feels guilty about being the way he is, hates that he's not normal enough for his father. But Jim always kisses him lightly and holds his hand.

And Spock is always there for Jim when an episode strikes. Sometimes, they're so regular he could plan around them, can know when he'll write the kindest letters to his mother and when to ask the nurses to shred the end results. Other times, like today, an episode seems to strike from the blue.

Spock is always there to hold him and rub his back when he cries about dumb things like Hiraku's plant dying or Leonard being too gruff with him. He never holds the cruel things Jim can say during a fit against him. When he's exhausted after a manic burst of motion, Spock brings him a little cup of lemonaid because Jim says it's a cheerful drink.

They try to always be prepared. But today is the first time they're absolutely not. Spock's on a weekend pass with his father, he agreed to take his son to a lecture at the local college, when Jim starts to fall.

He tries to be careful, doesn't joke too much with Leonard, makes sure his  
favorite gold colored blanket is folded and ready for cuddling. He even dips into his stash of powdered lemonaid packets to keep one on hand.

It doesn't work. No matter how hard he tries to smile, he can't find a reason. Uhura is singing something crooning that makes him ache for Spock.

Jim knows Spock has been excited about this lecture for weeks now, knows he has no reason to suspect Jim would have an episode today of all days. He feels betrayed, reguardless. He feels abandoned and unwanted.

Chekov brings him a paper covered in math written in six different colors that Jim couldn't possibly understand and smiles in that shy way of his. It should cheer him up, sweet Pavel offering that little part of himself. Instead Jim wishes he could be free of the facility, wishes he could take Chekov with him to be his adopted son and he could go to a university where his brilliance would be admired as it should.

Jim looks out the window on the cool of a spring day and sees death in bare branches and futility in budding leaves. He misses Spock, who left him for a talk on biochemistry, and his mother, who left him to pursue her career.

He aches with the hollow space gnawing at his insides.

Jim Kirk hates and sobs and curls his blankie around him in a desperate bid to keep the nurses from noticing he's falling apart again. He feels pathetic and he's drowning and he's lightheaded with sobbing and-

Warm arms slip around him and the bed dips at his back. He would know that scent anywhere. Spock.

"Y- you're back." Jim whispers, sounding as wrecked as he feels.

"The lecture was postponed. The speaker has contracted a particularly virulent strain of flu and will be unable to continue until further notice."

"I'm sorry." Because everything feels like it's Jim's fault right now.

"It is no fault of yours." Gosh he loves Spock's odd way of speaking, "Unless you somehow managed to infect the speaker with a rare strain of flu?"

Jim giggles despite the tears still wet on his face. "No."

"Then you need not apologize."

Spock doesn't repremand him, doesn't tell him to stop being stupid. Spock just holds him and tells him he's not done anything wrong.

He rests one hand over Jim's heart and rubs gently, soothing circles into his sternum.

A nurse checks in on them but doesn't tell them to move from where they've spooned together on Jim's little bed. It's probably Chapel, bless that wonderful woman.

Jim only pulls away to toss a bit of blankie over Spock so they can both be warm. The storm inside Jim is still raging. He is still torn and hurt and feeling more than any normal human should in one body. But Spock soothes his chest and he doesn't feel so alone.


End file.
